


After Gothos

by elbowsinsidethedoor



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-23
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-06-04 01:18:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6635161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elbowsinsidethedoor/pseuds/elbowsinsidethedoor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Third of a series that began with Return of theSquire and Echo of Gothos. The Psi-entity Trelane is instrumental in the first two stories, in revealing to Kirk the true nature of his feelings for Spock. In the third story<br/>Kirk submits to his First Officer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Gothos

**Author's Note:**

> This is the third part of a trilogy that I wrote long ago under a different pen name. Many thanks to WeirdLittleStories for helping me find the scattered pieces. I'm happy all three parts now have a new home.

The red glow of the fire-pot guided Kirk through the darkness to Spock. Sweat, from nervousness and arousal, moistened every crease in his skin. The air was overly warm for human comfort and heavy with incense; a rich spice, reminiscent of sandalwood. Kirk's heart beat hard at his own audacity as he stood naked in front of the black-robed Vulcan.

Spock was deep in trance, his meditation posture rigid, his face austere in the flickering red light, slanting eyebrows drawn in severe black slashes over his shadowed lids. Kirk was shaky in the act of lowering himself to the floor, horribly vulnerable; on his back, his knees bent and parted, facing Spock. It was a deliberate, blatant exposure of his swollen genitals, his ass. He meant to offer himself completely, to show Spock that he was ready to be his lover.

He tried to focus on one thought to hold all his own doubt and fear at bay --I can't lose him. It was the only way he could tame the voice that screamed he must be losing his mind to be doing this, insane to lie naked on Spock's floor like some kind of rutting animal. He yearned for so much from Spock. The aching desire to be physically possessed was only a guttural whisper of cravings that yawned wide beneath flesh and bone. A supplicant to his lover, he capitulated with spread limbs, hoping to stave off abandonment.

The truth was he needed Spock. The Vulcan had penetrated Kirk's fierce isolation over time, seducing him inch by subtle inch, in the guise of an excellent officer doing his duty. He had become a dark satellite in perfect orbit around Kirk, endlessly alluring, constantly offering sustenance and power. Spock's lack of personal ambition, so rare in a senior officer, had disarmed Kirk. There was never any threat implied in the brilliance of Spock's service to him, no challenge to his authority. Everything his First Officer achieved was for Kirk's benefit, not his own. This peerless service was an effective cloak for the Vulcan's growing passion.

Kirk's achievements were the antithesis of Spock's. Ambition and strength had rocketed him, blazing, through Star Fleet's ranks to the youngest captaincy in Fleet history. He'd burnt any hand that reached out to hold him back. Command of his own ship was given to him, in large part, because there wasn't a captain in the fleet who would tolerate him as their second-in-command. It amazed Kirk to remember that he'd initially considered Spock a liability. He'd expected to find the Vulcan resentful of being passed over, or still loyal to Christopher Pike. He had balked at inheriting such a key officer from another man's command, and campaigned hard to get his friend, Gary Mitchell, assigned to the post. It was one of the few things that he looked back on with gratitude at his own mistake. He had been so wrong.

From the outset Spock seemed to exist for him alone. He had only to look up, to express a need, and Spock was there. The essence of calm assurance, completely at Kirk's disposal. Whatever he asked for was simply given. Precise scientific data from memory, reasoned judgement in the face of crisis; Spock had gone so far as to bend the very laws of physics for him. He had time and again created science where none existed when Kirk needed him to.

The young captain was unaware of the growing gulf between what he could acknowledge; respect for the Vulcan as an officer, affection for him as a friend, and what he couldn't acknowledge; his simmering emotional and physical passion for the man. He didn't realize the depth of pleasure he took in his presence; how often he indulged in the sight of him; Spock's slender, graceful body, his face with its high cheek bones, sensuous mouth, and eyes so deep brown they looked black under the smoky lids.

Though blind to his own enchantment, Kirk saw how others were drawn to Spock. The irony of Spock's seeming immunity from sexual attraction was a fact of life on board the Enterprise. Some found it amusing, others painful, that a man graced with such sultry good looks should be so inaccessible. Blithely, Kirk considered the whole issue a problem for others, not him. He enjoyed an intimacy of friendship, a closeness and access to Spock which was unprecedented and never examined the source of the pleasure it gave him.

On Gothos, six days before, everything had changed. Trelane, the self-styled Squire of Gothos, Kirk's one-time enemy, had forced the Captain of the Enterprise to confront a chasm of desire that was crippling in its intensity. He'd forced Kirk's eyes open to vistas of physical need that were as ecstatic as they were terrifying. The truth was as inescapable and transfiguring as molten lava, erupted from Kirk's own emotional depths. Not only did he _want_ Spock, he wanted to be consumed by him, punished and fucked by him, hurt, comforted, and loved by him.

Trelane had made him see that Spock loved him, with a depth of passion that humbled him. What shape Spock's love for him took would be forged by the Vulcan according to his perception of Kirk's need. Kirk felt as helpless in the face of it as a newborn baby.

The texture of the rug was soft under him and his ass was obscenely slick with lubricant; his toes only inches from Spock's crossed legs. He studied the exotic features of his lover's face, waiting, wanting him to emerge from meditation and take away the pain of longing, to accept him. Spock's lips looked dark and lush in the glowing firelight and Kirk craved the feel of them on his. His heart rate sped into overdrive when he saw Spock open his eyes, knowing the moment had come to be seen, judged.

The Vulcan's eyes displayed no shock at the sight of Kirk spread like a sacrifice, only a burning intensity of attention. Kirk could feel his skin react to Spock's slow raking scrutiny of his naked body. His breath caught when the Vulcan studied the marks Trelane's riding crop had left on the insides of his thighs. Spock observed them without speaking and Kirk was grateful. He didn't want to talk about Trelane, not yet.

When the Vulcan spoke, his voice was warm velvet.

"You are offering yourself to me." Kirk wanted the weight of Spock on top of him so badly he could feel it in his chest, his stomach, between his legs. His arms rose from the floor, reaching out, but the seated figure didn't move and Kirk lowered his arms slowly back to the floor.

"I want you," he managed to say.

"Your desire is evident," Spock said. "Do you offer yourself to me without reservation?"

Kirk had to force his mind around these words, to concentrate through the haze of his lust.

"Do you want me to beg?" His voice was breathy, overwrought with need. It tortured him to lie still as the controlled intensity of Spock's gaze held him pinned.

The tightly reined heat in the Vulcan's eyes attested to a discipline that could denounce desire; Spock could, and he would walk away if Kirk didn't give him the answer he was seeking. His gaze traveled between the restless thighs spread in front of him, over the engorged cock and down to Kirk's ass, where it lingered before he looked up again.

"I do not doubt that you would beg me." He acknowledged it simply. "But, without certain assurance you understand what you are doing, I will not take you."

He raised his hand and with the backs of his fingers lightly stroked the inside of Kirk's thigh.

"If I take you now I will not relinquish you, no matter how frightened you become."

He drew his hand away. Kirk's body rang with pleasure from Spock's caress, but his mind was in turmoil. After their only night together on board ship, Kirk had bolted in panic with the first light of waking.

"I shouldn't have run away before ... I shouldn't have left like that without seeing you, or talking to you."

Kirk was distressed to feel tears gathering in his throat, to hear his own rough voice.

"Can't you forgive that?"

"Forgive?" Spock sounded faintly surprised. "There is nothing to forgive."

"Then what ...?" Kirk asked, confused.

"I was not angry with you."

"But ..."

"You misunderstand me. I do not reproach you for your fear, it does not hurt me. The pertinent matter is that it I will disregard your fear. If you give yourself to me, I'll take you ... whenever ... however I wish to." His tone was silken threat. "The word _no_ will cease to have meaning when you speak it to me. Do you still offer yourself?"

Kirk felt a welling anguish and fought tears, a stray ran down one side of his face and his hands flew up to cover his eyes.

"Yes," he uttered softly, "I'm saying yes to you."

"Then it is done. Look at me, T'hy'la," Spock commanded gently, and Kirk forced himself to move his hands away from his face.

Spock untied his robe and pulled the sash free. The cloth fell open enough for Kirk's hungry eyes to glimpse shadowed skin, a portion of sleekly-muscled chest. He drew a sharp breath at the sight of the massive bronze erection, so taut that its moss-dark head nearly dug into the Vulcan's stomach. Facing the reality of Spock's arousal, Kirk's body gripped in terror of being split wide open. Not just this night, but echoing endless enslavement to Spock's rending flesh. The forbidden word _no_ choked him, rising and sticking in his throat.

"Hold out your hands," Spock said, and Kirk understood it to be an order in spite of the Vulcan's calm tone of voice.

"Why?" Kirk whispered through anguished layers of resistance.

"Because I request it."

"Spock, I don't want it to be this way."

"Your hand, T'hy'la. It will hurt less if you give it to me now." Spock's voice was soothing but offered no option other than obedience.

Kirk knew in his marrow, meeting Spock's eyes, that the words carried all the threat of the Vulcan's physical strength. It was written in stone. If he couldn't make himself do this, he'd be _made_ to; it would happen regardless of what he said, what he did, what he professed to want, or not want. He only dared to speak the word _no_ silently as he raised his hand in the air.

Spock's touch made him tremble with pleasure. The touch conveyed the essence of what Kirk worshiped in his lover, an untold strength sheathed in tenderness, in warmth. Spock's fingertips caressed minutely as they held him and Kirk's fear gave way to longing to hold and be held. If only he would just take me in his arms and make love to me, he thought. A normal embrace, giving and taking equally; not this perversion, this one-sided control by one of the other.

I don't have to be taken, Kirk thought, I _want_ him.

"Now the other," Spock said.

Kirk froze, he didn't want to lift his hand from the floor. He had to make Spock understand.

"I know you think you're doing this for me, that it's what I want," the words skittered out of him. "You think I need this, but I don't."

He saw his lover was unmoved and tried desperately to find the right words to make him give way.

"If I could just ... I want to be able hold you, I want to touch you. Please, don't do this." His heart poured in pleading, thickening his throat, he felt he was near to weeping, again.

"Beg if you wish, Jim, or cry, but you must give me your hand."

Kirk raised his arm, tear-filled eyes entreating his lover.

"I _hate_ this," he murmured to no effect as the Vulcan took one wrist, crossed it over the other and bound them together.

Spock rose to his knees. He wound the sash in his fist and as if Kirk weighed nothing, he pulled him up until he was kneeling in front of him, steadying him with a hand at his waist. He bent the bound wrists backwards, straining Kirk's armpits and triceps to their limit, forcing his hands behind his head. Kirk's lower body was thrust forward, so close to Spock's he could feel the heat of him on his thighs, on his hard cock. With a groan of pure lust, he tried to thrust his hips forward to press into that warmth.

"Be still," Spock cautioned with a restraining hand on Kirk's hip. "Look at me." Kirk was breathing hard, he felt stretched from his hips to his elbows and close to whimpering with need for touch. Spock's eyes were burning into him. "You are very much mistaken if you think it does not give me pleasure to take control of your body. It is ... immensely pleasurable."

His tilted his head gazing at Kirk's mouth, face drawing nearer. Kirk opened up like a flower to be kissed. Spock licked Kirk's lower lip and pulled it gently in his teeth. His hand was sliding up Kirk's side, over his chest, stroking as he kissed him. Spock drew the tail of the sash forward between Kirk's arm and neck. He used it to caress him, winding the silk around his finger, he slid it over hardened nipples, making Kirk moan as he was kissed, making his hips tremble. Silkiness teased at Kirk's throat and up behind his ear as Spock's tongue explored his mouth. Kirk was melting, marshmallow soft everywhere but his nipples and rigid cock.

He didn't realize, until the material tightened across his throat, that Spock had wound the sash around his neck. His eyes flew wide in terrified comprehension of the seemingly random caresses. Spock was tying his wrists to his neck - if he struggled the sash would tighten to a stranglehold.

"Breathe," Spock ordered. Kirk gasped for breath, and tried to swallow, panicking hard. Constricting with fear his heart squeezed in his chest and his brain shot into overload.

"Untie me." His voice was a horrified whisper, his eyes flashing desperation into Spock's, begging to be acknowledged, for Spock to _hear_ him.Spock's gaze was opaque.

"You wish to be untied," he said as if it were a curious fact..

"It's too much, Spock, ... to do this ... it's wrong."

Kirk's arms were on fire with the strain of holding tight behind his head to keep the sash loose on his throat. The stretching was unbearable under his arms, burning his shoulders. He fought tears, anguished with need to make his lover understand that he could not bear this.

"Spock, _please_." His breath was ragged with the effort not to weep but it was impossible to hold back the moisture swelling behind his eyes.

"You may cry, T'hy'la," the Vulcan assured him gently. Spock no longer needed to hold Kirk's arms imprisoned. He cupped both his hands at the base of Kirk's shoulders, thumbs curving deep and massaging into the straining armpits. Pain began melting at once under his touch, the burning ache through Kirk's arms eased and his throat relaxed. Kirk moaned deep with relief, closing his eyes on his spilling tears. Then he felt Spock's mouth touch his face, tongue tracing the moisture of tears.

Kirk's mind stilled, emptied of words. His thoughts thinned out and disappeared like faint clouds in a desert sky. There was only warmth left in their place and mindless seeking of the source of warmth with his lips, searching for Spock's mouth. The comfort of renewed kissing seeped through Kirk, traveling lusciously into his chest, soothing the tightened muscles of his belly and stroking sweetly in his groin, making his hips roll toward Spock's. Kirk felt his cock brush across Spock's erection, an Elysian promise of what would be inside him and he filled Spock's mouth with his groan.

"Soon," Spock murmured, holding him away. He lowered Kirk's now pliant body to the floor, positioning him with stroking hands. Kirk followed Spock's every move in the red firelight, trailing him with longing, loving eyes. Spock slid the cushion he used for meditation under Kirk's hips, turning it into a platform for fucking him, and it made Kirk feel like he was enthroned. Spock knelt between Kirk's feet and Kirk watched, rapt, as the black robe slid off his lover's shoulders. Soon, soon, he told himself, echoing Spock's promise.

He watched him hold the robe aloft in his hands and tear the fabric, ripping long strips of cloth with calm precision. The destruction opened a stream of misgivings in Kirk's heart as if he had forced the Vulcan to desecrate sacred things.

Spock grasped Kirk's ankle and raised it up to kiss. He bathed the tender skin between anklebone and instep with his tongue, making Kirk shudder, turning his thoughts back to silent prayers of gratitude. A strip of black cloth bound Kirk's ankle, another was wound at the top of his thigh, accentuating the crease between his leg and outward curve of his ass. Spock secured one band of cloth to the other, trapping Kirk's foot snug up against him.

One leg, and then the other. Kirk waited, completely bound and so aroused that he thought he could come from the brush of a fingertip. The pressures of the bonds holding his body in place were like tight hands in impassioned caresses. He was acutely aware of himself as a vessel, a fuckable object, yearning to be filled. His body was squeezed into the shape of his desire; bent legs spread and hips arched high, stretched arms opening his chest and the deep portions of his stomach to exquisite hunger for touch.

He waited, watching Spock whose eyes were half-shut with a smoldering desire; the veil of Vulcan control no longer hid anything from Kirk's eyes. He saw how his lover burned for him, the broad planes of Spock's cheekbones flushed dark bronze with arousal. Slowly Spock lowered himself over Kirk's bound body, not touching him. With one hand he braced himself, and with the other he guided his cock to the hole that was slicked and waiting open for him.

With one thrust he passed the wet rings of tight muscle and began pumping his rigid flesh inexorably deeper, each thrust forcing Kirk's body to take more of him until, stroking steadily, he was buried completely inside the sheath of his lover's hungry body. Kirk was blinded by pleasure with each thrust, impossibly full of what he craved; hours of need being filled.

Never stop fucking me, never, never, he prayed inside. The pumping flesh expanded him, stroking him into regions of pleasure his genitals couldn't comprehend. Kirk's erection was like the loaded barrel of a gun with its trigger buried deep in his ass. When he came the pleasure deafened him, choked him, crowding his senses. His cries through the clutching body spasms were like the sound of someone screaming in another room. Spock's stroking slowed into gentler, steady penetration as his captive panted for breath in the aftermath of his climax.

Gradually Kirk's shallow gulps for air transformed into deeper breaths of pleasure. He opened his eyes slowly and gazed up through a misted haze of love. He studied Spock's face above him and was enthralled. Pleasure infused every feature of the Vulcan face, the eyes were closed to sparkling dark crescents, brows slightly furrowed, lips lusciously swollen. Spock's head was cocked at an angle as if listening as he slowly, gently continued to fuck. The coal-dark eyes opened more, meeting Kirk's, and a sound escaped Spock's mouth, the softest groan imaginable, a barely audible purring growl. The thrusting was long and sweet, each inward stroke renewed joy, each outward movement a promise to return; Kirk felt his loins stirring again, a hint of gathering blood, swelling.

He adored his lover's body with possessive eyes, the muscles in his arms standing out in long taut curves, incredibly powerful; broad sculpted shoulders, slender torso in liquid motion. To belong to such a divine creature awed him. Spock shuddered and stopped moving, pressed as deeply and tight as he could. His eyes closed completely for a timeless moment and then opened slowly. Kirk waited, content to be full, knowing he would feel the wet heat of his lover's cum inside him soon. Spock's hand slid under him and pushed away the cushion, holding him close. He slowly lifted him up, keeping their bodies flush together as he rose higher on his knees. Only Kirk's shoulders still made contact with the floor, he felt weightless as a child, supported completely by the hands under his ass. The Vulcan gave him time to accustom himself to this position, watching Kirk closely as he adjusted his hold on him. Then he began to move their bodies together, harder and harder, until he was jamming his cock into him, forcing Kirk onto punishing strokes.

The human was astonished by the joy of being fucked so hard, hopelessly aroused by the raw power that he knew Spock was still controlling. Unleashed, it could have broken and battered him. The hard thrusts gave way when Spock came, holding Kirk tight to the jerking roll of his hips. The Vulcan's head flung back in a beautiful arched expanse of neck as he emptied into Kirk's body in long trembling pulses. He was glowing when his body grew still and his head came forward, eyes seeking Kirk's. He lowered him gently to the floor, turning Kirk onto to his side.

He curled close beside him, facing him, murmuring words in Vulcan that Kirk didn't understand. What he understood was that he was being cherished. The words were a verbal caress as Spock gazed in his eyes and stroked a soothing hand up his back. With a single tug of the sash the binding at his neck was gone and his wrists were free. Kirk instantly missed the pressure of the tight cloth restraints but accepted Spock's choice to release him. "Not my legs," he whispered, not wanting to be completely relinquished, as if by untying him Spock was letting him go. To show him he was not abandoned, Spock took possession of Kirk's untied wrist and drew it down steadily, stinging him with the painful uncurling of his arm muscles. Kirk winced at the sharp sensations but they reminded him that his body was in Spock's care. He was as grateful for the measured pain as he was for the kisses on the side of his face.

"You'll stay?" he asked the Vulcan in a voice that was raw with vulnerability, a voice that would never be heard by anyone but Spock.

"Yes," the Vulcan assured him. Spock's fingers worked at the leg bindings and Kirk stayed quiet as the straps came loose. His skin was stinging where the tight cloth had bitten into him. Spock's finger tip traced the sensitive circle of grooved skin around Kirk's thigh, up under his ass. He stroked up the cleft of his buttocks, stirring his own cum as it seeped from Kirk's body.


End file.
